I shiver a little as the cold air of the doctor's office hits my bare stomach, but otherwise I say nothing. Chandler has my gown pulled up over my stomach and is quietly speaking to our unborn child.

I sigh and shift a little against the uncomfortable examining table, trying to fight down the aggravation I feel right now—I mean, he can talk to the baby any time he wants to, and usually does, but now he wants to do it in the middle of a doctor's office? Not earlier, when we had plenty of time at home and I was wearing normal clothes and there wasn't a medical staff flitting about. Nope; he wants to do it now.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly through my nose, trying my hardest to redirect my annoyance; Chandler doesn't deserve it. He hasn't done anything except try to be there for me every step of the way. He gets up in the middle of the night when I need something as simple as a glass of water; he rubs my feet when they're tired from standing all day; he takes care of our twins whenever possible just to ease m burden. He's a great father and a wonderful husband and the fact that I'm feeling nothing but wrath toward him right now is insane.

Logically, I know it's my hormones. They're on a rampage and there's nothing I can do to control it. But knowing that I'm inexplicably mad at my husband just serves to piss me off further, and I wind up taking it out on him.

I clench my fists and try to calm down. If nothing else, this is elevating my blood pressure and that can't be good for the baby.

I feel Chandler press his lips against my belly and, despite my unfounded fury, I feel my eyes fill with tears; now I feel even worse for thinking such horrible, uncharitable thoughts about him.

He doesn't deserve this.

His hand comes up and gently rubs my stomach and I really feel like I could just break down into inconsolable tears.

"The baby must be pretty cramped in there, huh?" he asks softly, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

I look down at my stomach, which is definitely tilting to the left right now; the baby has apparently decided that this is much more comfortable than being centered. I shrug and make a noncommittal noise.

His hand shifts so that he's stroking that side of my belly, his fingers gently running over the bumps and ridges of our child. "Is that the head?"

I put my hand near his, pushing a little and wait. I feel a tiny bit of movement. I give the baby another nudge and I feel what definitely has to be toes knocking into my ribcage as the baby stretches out. "No, I think that's its tiny little ass."

He chuckles a little, watching my stomach shift position slightly. "How can you tell that?"

I shift again as the baby jostles my insides, then move my hand to the lower edge of my ribcage. "Because its foot is right here."

He looks up at me, eyes wide. "Can I feel it?"

"Unless you're able to actually get your hands completely under my ribs, I sincerely doubt it."

I see the wounded look in Chandler's eyes for just a second before he redirects his attention to my belly and I roll my eyes, though more at myself than at him. I shouldn't be reprimanding him for wanting to be able to feel his own child move. He doesn't have all this stuff happening inside of him; he just has to live vicariously through me.

I shouldn't have to keep reminding myself how much of a miracle this truly is for the two of us and just appreciate it; I only have about eight weeks of pregnancy left; no matter how uncomfortable I am right now, or how much more uncomfortable I'll get as the baby starts to grow at an exponential rate, I need to try to enjoy it, because I thought I'd never get to have it.

And if my stupid hormones would just stop screwing with me, I might be able to do just that.

"Why do you think its butt is way out there?" he asks softly, and I can see him tracing a heart on my stomach. My eyes fill with tears that I try valiantly to blink away. I'm a horrible wife.

"Other than it must be fun to see how many of Mommy's organs it can squish at one time, I have no idea. It's probably just trying to get comfortable while it sleeps." I give the baby another gentle nudge. "Would you mind moving back to where you're supposed to be?" I feel it shift a little, centering itself just a bit; my stomach is still kind of lopsided, but not as awkwardly.

"It's kinda cool that you can get the baby to move like that," he says tentatively.

"You probably can, too. Give 'im a little push."

He shakes his head adamantly. "No way. I'll hurt him."

I grab his hand and put it on the lump that's still pushing out of the side of my stomach. "No you won't. All you need is a little nudge, though. Give it a shot."

Carefully, he pushes his fingertips against the baby and I gasp out in shock as the baby jumps inside of me, shifting suddenly and rapidly. Chandler rips his hand away like he's been burned. "Oh, my God, what did I do?"

I laugh a little even as I try to get my heartbeat under control. "Nothing. I think you just scared it."

"How could I have scared it?!"

"Well, it was probably sleeping, and maybe you poked just the right spot."

He doesn't look convinced or any less concerned. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. That was just the strangest damn thing." I rub my stomach for a moment, which is suddenly looking a lot less lopsided. "I mean, I've read a little about it, you know? I just didn't realize it'd feel…well, like a tiny person skittering across your insides." I take his hand again and put it back on my belly. "It's okay. You definitely got him to move, though."

He chuckles a little, though his face still looks tense. He leans forward, pressing his cheek gently to my stomach. "I'm sorry, little nugget. Daddy didn't mean to scare you." I feel the baby kick and Chandler's eyes grow wide as he laughs. "Hey! That was my face! Though I guess I deserved that."

I tap the side of my belly, laughing gently. "Don't kick Daddy, little one. It's rude." Chandler looks up at me adoringly and I feel a little startled, swallowing hard. "What?"

"Is everything okay?"

I open my mouth to ask what he means, then close my mouth and sigh; I know what he means. "I'm sorry. I think it's my hormones going out of control. I can't control it and I hate it. I'm overreacting to everything and I'm treating you horribly."

"It's okay, you know."

"No, it's not. It's not fair to you. You can't help it."

"Yeah, but you're growing a baby. You're allowed to be a little emotional."

"It's not just—" I'm interrupted by a tap at the door, Dr. Rosen following a moment later, grinning at us.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite patients—the Bings."

I roll my eyes. "I bet you say that to all the girls with funny last names."

"Only when I mean it." She walks up beside me and looks down at Chandler, who stares back at her in confusion for a moment before realizing his head is in the way.

"Oh! Sorry," he says, moving out of the doctor's way, coming to stand next to my head. The doctor places her hands on my stomach, feeling around, pressing gently from time to time.

"So, how's everything going?"

"Chandler scared the baby."

Dr. Rosen snickers and looks up at him. "How'd you manage that?"

Chandler looks horrified all over again. "I didn't mean to! All I did was give it a little nudge to get it to move."

"Yep; and the baby jumped and basically ran and hid."

"Well, that would definitely explain why it feels like it's tucked more tightly against you than normal." The doctor smiles at Chandler's crestfallen face. "Don't get too upset about it. That kind of thing happens all the time. Just think of it this way; your kid has great reflexes. Legs in the stirrups, Monica."

I make a face but slide down a little on the table, lifting my legs into position. I feel Chandler's fingers thread through mine and I give his hand a little squeeze.

"No Wonder Twins today?" she asks as she snaps on her gloves. I'm always amazed at how gynecologists are able to carry on such normal conversations while prodding around a woman's undercarriage.

I clear my throat. "Ah, no. They're with a couple of friends of ours. They're expecting a baby, too, actually."

"Oh, yeah?" Dr. Rosen looks up and smiles for a moment before going back to work. "How far along?"

"About four and a half months."

"Is she expecting multiples, or did you just want to traumatize her?"

Chandler snickers a little. "Just one, as far as we know. And our twins could be a lot worse."

The doctor winks as she stands up and pulls off her gloves, tossing them in the trash before washing her hands. "I know. Jack and Erica are pretty cool little kids." She drags her stool over next to us, bringing over the equipment to check the heartbeat. "All right, Mrs. Bing. The baby's in a good position. It's starting to drop, which is a good thing. Your cervix looks perfect. Everything looks like it's going according to plan. It certainly helps that you know pretty much the exact date you got pregnant; definitely narrows down that margin of error. You two still sure you don't want to know the sex?"

I look up at Chandler and he shrugs down at me. "I'm still good with being surprised, but it's completely up to you. You carry the baby, you get to decide if you want to know what it is."

It's the little things like that that remind me of just how much I love this man…and then I feel like an even bigger ass for letting my mood swings get the best of me. "We'll wait. We've come this far, what's another eight weeks?" I take a deep breath—eight weeks doesn't feel like a whole lot of time.

She puts the fetal doppler on my stomach and a few moments later the heartbeat fills the room. The doctor smiles at us as Chandler leans down and kisses my forehead. "Sounds pretty strong to me," she says. "I think you two are going to have one perfect little baby."

"No pressure on our fetus, though, right?" Chandler asks, sliding his arm around my shoulders, giving me a little hug.

"You two have been practically textbook this entire time; while nothing's impossible, it looks like you're in good shape for a normal, healthy baby." She gives my leg a pat and I take my feet out of the stirrups, pulling the gown back over my stomach. "Aside from Chandler scaring the baby, how's everything else going? Any strange aches or pains? Thoughts or concerns?"

A horrible sense of panic wells up inside of me, something I've been fighting for days—weeks, if I'm being honest with myself. With no further warning, tears burst out of me and I bury my face in my hands and sob. I can hear Chandler asking if I'm okay, his arm tightening around me, but all I can do is shake my head. His other arm wraps around me and he rocks me back and forth, kissing my head.

"I'm sorry," I finally whimper. "I'm sorry."

"Monica, what is it?"

My breath hitches as I fight off more sobs, trying to compose myself. "I—I'm…I'm just so scared."

"Oh, honey. Scared of what?"

I look up and see my doctor looking at me sympathetically, patiently. "Sorry," I whisper to her.

"Pregnant women feel a lot of different things, Monica. Sometimes it's because they can tell something's wrong, and sometimes it because of the things that could be wrong, and sometimes it's just because. Don't apologize for it."

"Well, I mean…everything's been going so well, you know? It took so long for us to get pregnant and we've had no trouble this entire time, and I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. And…" I look back and forth between Chandler and the doctor. "I'm really, really scared."

Chandler's arms tighten around me. "Scared about what?"

"Labor! I don't know if I can do it." I hate that I feel this way; I hate even more admitting it, but I'm scared out of my mind about this. I only have eight weeks, give or take, until a baby is actually going to come out of me. I've seen the childbirth video; I watch Erica give birth to the twins. It didn't look all that spectacular either time. Now I know it's going to be me in a few weeks and I honestly don't know if it's something my body can do.

"Monica?" I look up at my doctor, who gives my leg a gentle squeeze. "It's okay to be scared. Labor is scary, but I can promise that you can handle it. Your body will take over for you when the time comes, and when it's all over, you'll have a brand new baby to add to your collection. Labor is so worth it in the end. Just try to remember that, okay? I've seen a lot of women over the years terrified about giving birth, who work themselves up into an absolute tizzy over it, but you know what?"

I shake my head, not trusting my voice. Chandler's arms wrap around me a little tighter.

"Every single one thought it was worth it. None of it matters at the end. Women have been doing this since the beginning of time; you'll just be another member of the club. And, I know it's scary to think about having three kids; that's a lot to deal with. But it was scary when you had to bring home twins, right?"

"Totally," Chandler answers for the both of us. "I didn't feel ready for that at all."

"But it's been pretty good so far, right?"

I sniffle and nod. "Yeah. Jack and Erica are the best things to ever happen to us."

"And this will be, too. It's scary and messy and things will go wrong, but in the end, you'll just love your baby and keep trying. That's all you can do. It sounds like you have a pretty solid group of friends to help you out, too."

"We do," Chandler says. "We definitely do."

"Just try to breathe. I know it's not the best solution, but it's the only one I've got. I know you can handle this, and your husband will be with you every step of the way. And don't forget, your favorite OB-GYN will be here to catch it when you're ready to push. You have got this."

I don't feel like I've got anything, but I nod anyway. "Okay."

"Okay. Now, get dressed. I'll see you back here in a couple of weeks. Next month we'll take one last sonogram before the baby pops out to make sure everything's still in place. And Chandler," she turns to look at my husband, waggling her finger at him. "Take care of her. Don't let her stress out about this too much."

"I'll do whatever I can. Thanks, doctor."

Dr. Rosen gives my leg another pat before leaving the room, and I slowly stand up from the table, Chandler's arm around my waist for support.

"Why haven't you mentioned any of this?"

"I was trying to ignore it. I thought it was just my hormones messing with me because it doesn't make sense to be so scared of something I want so badly." I feel tears leak down my cheeks as I try to reach for my clothes.

Chandler's arms wrap around me from behind, the only way we can get close nowadays. "If it helps at all, I'm scared, too. A lot's happened in the last year; a lot of stuff has changed. But you know what's still the same?"

"What's that?"

"You and your incredible strength. You can do anything. You're Supermom and you're incredible."

"I don't feel that incredible or that super."

"Well, I'll just have to keep reminding you. You're the strongest person I've ever know, and if there's anyone who can kick child birth's ass, it's you. And I will be there to hold your hand through every single moment of it. We'll do it like we do everything else—together."

"You're the best husband in the world. I don't deserve you. I'm sorry I've been so horrible to you lately."

"You haven't been horrible. I've just been worried about you. Anytime you feel scared or upset, please just tell me. I may not be able to help, but at least I can try."

I nod and squeeze his arms for a moment before he lets me go so I can get dressed. "Thank you. I'm sorry I'm such a mess."

"You have an actual person growing inside of you right now. I think you're allowed to have a few moments from time to time."

He braces my back while I pull on my pants, holding out my shirt for when I'm ready. I don't know what I did to deserve this guy, or why he insists that I'm wonderful when I can be a world-class bitch. All I know is that he loves me and our family with his whole heart, and I really think that nothing could ever change that.

The baby kicks against my stomach and I realize my heart is pounding as I think about Chandler. I smile and take his hand in mine, placing it over the baby.

"Because of you," I whisper. "Because of you."